


Too Tired For This Shit

by Halfblood_Fiend



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Character, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Overthinking, grey asexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend
Summary: All Breme wanted was a bath but what she gets instead is guilt, anxiety and heckling. It's going to be one of those nights...





	Too Tired For This Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Would eventually be part of the On the Heroes Bourne of the River Dane series, but I have 0 chill and can't do a damn thing in order. :))

Breme wanted a bath. Desperately. She’d thought of little else over the course of the long day. Ever since she rode back into Skyhold. Ever since she had been sidetracked and yanked in every which direction from the moment she dismounted. She could feel the grime grating against her skin underneath the armor, felt the grime as she wiped her face. Breme was miserable but she never had the time.

As she trudged away from the War Room late in the evening, she hardly had the energy to be excited over the prospect of bathing anymore. She’d have to  _climb_  to her quarters in the  _tallest_  tower. She’d have to  _ring_  for the staff. They’d have to  _move_  her tub from her closet,  _boil_  enough water for her, bring it  _back_  up to her, then— _Flames!_  Maybe at this point, she should just towel the worst of the dirt off her skin with the little washbasin on her dresser. It would be faster albeit less satisfying. Then, at least, she could fall into bed and get a full night’s rest before the hectic day started all over again tomorrow. After the weeks of travel, sleep in a real bed sounded better than anything. If it was worth the trouble, she could always call for a bath on the morrow.

Breme had all but decided she was going to be lazy tonight after all, forgo comfort for sleep. It took all her concentration to not fall over as she climbed the steps. She was making the right choice.

She smelled it before her head cleared the railing—the springy scent of rosemary lingering with mint and sweet honeysuckle—and then spied the blessed sight over the rails. Her large claw-footed tub stood in the center of the room, filled with steaming water. A stack of fluffy white towels sat on her bed, a neatly folded note atop them. Beside it was her bath salts and a sponge, waiting for her to finally use them after what felt like forever.

Breme half ran to it and snatched the parchment up—who had done this? Was it the Iron Bull? Upon the paper was a slim, elegant script that was definitely  _not_  her lover’s looping scrawl. After trading letters for ten years, she knew it all too well.

_You deserve this, my dear. Enjoy._

Laying the note aside, Breme chewed her lip, a wave of guilt washing over her. Her father was  _many_  despicable things, but he seemed to always be there when she needed him most. Loghain must have been listening to her griping all the way to Skyhold. He must have found some way to coordinate with her advisors so the water would still be hot when she returned from their meeting. He went out of his way to do a sweet thing for her…Maybe she was too hard on him. She made a sheepish mental note to thank Loghain later and try to be kinder to him while he stayed with her.

But, Maker’s breath, he was right. She did deserve this. She stripped without another thought and threw her soiled riding clothes in a frumpy pile on the floor.

Breme poured her salts and oils into the still steaming water and when she reached an arm in to stir it, she shivered, a small moan escaping her. This would feel Maker sent. She eased one leg in and then another, grinning as gooseflesh rose across her skin. It was blessedly hot and soothing and Breme wished to savor each delicious moment.

Until the blasted bedroom door opened and closed with a hard snap.

Breme froze, eyes darting to the towels she’d left five feet away on the fucking bed, much too far out of her reach. Why hadn’t she grabbed one to keep near her? Stupid!

And who the fuck was coming after her  _now?!_

As the heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs, Breme made the snap decision to dash for the towels. Hopping awkwardly from the tub, skidding dangerously on the stone floor, she made it only two steps when a deep voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Well, well,” the Iron Bull croaked, voice low, humming and husky. “My night just got better.” Breme’s face snapped to the stairs and she beamed. He threw her a lazy grin, his chin propped in his arms folded over the banister. Light danced in his eye and made her blush but Breme didn’t look away as his greedy gaze roved over her body. She dropped her outstretched hand, forgetting the towel entirely.

“You should know better than to enter a lady’s quarters without knocking,” she told him with a coy smile. They both knew the shyness was only skin deep, Breme was bold, bolder when he was there.

“I’ll have to remember that next time I want to enter a lady’s room, but you, Kadan, are no lady,” he rumbled with laughter. “Why don’t you go ahead and carry on as if I wasn’t here? Don’t mind me. I’ll just be enjoying the view.”

Breme laughed and went back to stir her water. She made sure to bend over and give an extra little shake of her ass for him.

The Iron Bull sucked a long breath between his teeth and exhaled slow. Fighting for control, she hoped. Breme smirked. She could hear the hitch in his breathing, practically feel his desire in the air like she was one wrong move from being whisked to the bed and  _taken_. That was the way she always liked it, even if The Iron Bull would never do anything to her without her explicit permission, without her doing something first.

That basal  _need_  for sex was never strong for Breme, always variable, usually unnecessary, but tonight…tonight she decided she did want that little extra. For Bull.

“Care to join me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. Breme gave another shake of her hips that she hoped was alluring.

“Better not. I can’t be held responsible for what I might do to you. I’ve got a  _long_  list of fantasies and your daddy wouldn’t like a single thing on it. I’m not about to piss  _him_  off.”

Breme couldn’t stop the sulk that crossed her face. “Who would tell hi _iii_ —” Her question broke off into a moan as she lowered herself into the tub. Maker, fuck, Andraste  _above_ , the water felt so damn  _good!_ Exhaustion melted off her in the dingy rivulets that tracked over her skin and dripped away the tension. She shivered and took a deep breath before sinking her whole head beneath the surface for a moment to slick her short black hair back.

“Feel good?” The Iron Bull asked, the echo of laughter warm on his lips as his boots clacked on the stones.

“Like nothing you’d ever imagine.”

A large hand captured her face and tilted it back. His lips seized hers in a hard kiss that stole Breme’s breath and sparked a fire that made her warmer than the water ever could.

The Iron Bull pulled away and smirked at her, the corner of his eye crinkling. “I think you underestimate my imagination.”

“I think you should show me,” Breme said with a wink and pointed at the soap and sponge on the bed.

He looked startled for a moment as he passed her what she wanted. The ever-uncertain part of her reared its ugly head and she wondered if she had she just made a mistake.

“When you say ‘show’ you…?”

Blushing a little, Breme busied herself with controlling the bottle of liquid that wanted nothing better than empty all its contents and go for a swim.

Why did she say that? How could she explain?  _This_ was why she had always preferred being alone. Keeping to herself was easier than having to explain again and again how she, someone who didn’t care for sex, would suddenly and inexplicably want it. Just  _because_. As if not wanting sex all the time was inconceivable.

They had discussed her…peculiarity before. She  _had_   _to_  after he had appeared in her room inviting her to “ride The Bull” and she had accepted because…well, because he was there if Breme was being honest with herself. At that exact moment, she had sex because having sex was simpler than turning him down or explaining her real attitude towards the deed. Afterward, she told him that wasn’t normal for her; not to expect it as the norm.

Breme had told him there were days when she would have sex and days she wouldn’t. Days she’d rather cuddle; days she’d rather tease. Days she may  _want_  it; days she’d be happier giving than taking. The Iron Bull, for his part, had shrugged and accepted it all. “You have your terms, I have mine. I think if you’re really interested, Breme, we can both get what we want,” he had said. And Breme had tentatively agreed. Though that dark voice in the back of her mind told her this would end quickly--just as Leliana’s fling had ended quickly. Yet to her surprise, it didn’t. The Iron Bull indeed gave her what she craved in companionship and in turn, Breme let him tie her up when she was feeling it, never needing to utter that strange word, “katoh.”

But her years had taught her to still be afraid, to still second guess herself. “Yesterday you said you didn’t want sex but  _today_  you do??” She was always ready for the accusation, the sting of irate words from someone who would simply never understand. It was exhausting in and of itself.

The Iron Bull reached over her and took the would-be escapee from her hand and she felt a chill drip on the top of her head as he poured soap on it for her. His fingers kneaded the liquid into a lather and Breme closed her eyes as he worked. She wondered not for the first time at how gentle he was being. How careful and controlled did the giant man have to be not to tear her ear off or injure her neck? With obvious care like he showed her, why did she continue to worry he would be annoyed with her…oddness?

“You’ve had a long day, Kadan,” he rumbled. “Are you sure? You know that I can get a little…”

“Crazy?”

“I was going to say ‘enthusiastic,’ but I’m touched to know you think so highly of me.”

Breme snorted as his soapy fingers moved to her neck, massaging out the tension there. “Well, you were the one implying you would tattle on me to my father earlier so…” He gave her shoulders a good squeeze and a little groan escaped her.

“I would do no such thing! I would never compromise being able to do this.” One of his hands reached into the water and he pinched Breme’s nipple, causing her to jump and slap his arm. Water sloshed out of the tub and The Iron Bull just laughed. The throaty sound of it washed over Breme and made her swell with happiness. His damn laugh was contagious and soon she was giggling right along with him. “Rinse, before you get soap in your eyes.”

Doing as she was told, Breme submerged herself and ran her fingers through her hair until it felt clean. When she emerged, Breme barely had time to take a breath before Bull was over her, kissing her again. This time he was fierce, tongue sliding against hers with urgency like he was trying to take something from her. Heat curled in her stomach, dull at first but kindling fast until he tore himself away from her with a grunt.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “You look so good with the water running off you like that. And I can still smell the dragon’s blood. You drank more recently, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Breme laughed, “something like  _last week_. Does the smell linger that long?”

The Iron Bull buried his face in the curve of her neck and took a deep breath. His arms propped on the tub as he kneeled behind her, the fingers of one hand tracing lazy strokes over her bare thigh.

“Oh yeah, it does,” The Iron Bull sighed, nipping at Breme’s throat. “I love it.”

Breme reached up and touched his cheek with her hand, leaning into him for a moment. “Bull, earlier, I meant that– _tonight_  at least–I feel like doing…something w-with you… It might just be a tonight only thing, of course. It just sort of seems like a good thing to do…right now, that is…” She sounded stupid, she realized, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks.

“Oh, no, no. Yeah, of course, I get  _that_  part, Kadan,” Bull rushed as if he hadn’t noticed her discomfort at all. He pulled away from Breme’s neck and rested his chin on her head. “The part I was unsure about was  _how_  you wanted me to show you. Am I  _describing_ everything I imagine?  _Or,_  if we were  _doing_  everything I imagine, I think you should hurry because we have to get started as soon as possible. I do have a  _very_  long list.”

Breme sniggered and smacked his arm again. “Just put soap on that sponge for me so I can get out of this bath and kick your ass.” She wanted to act as though she were annoyed but inwardly her heart was bursting to many times its size. Breme had doubted for nothing, she realized, and she had to tell herself so over and over again. Bull knew, he remembered, he didn’t ask questions, simply…accepted her, as he had since the beginning, as he likely would for as long as this arrangement went on. Perhaps one day she’d even be used to it.

“Ooh, I like ‘em with a little fight,” he said, the hand on her thigh squeezing for a moment before he moved to comply.

They enjoyed the other’s company while Breme finished bathing. Breme filled Bull in on the worst of her adventures in the Dales (“That sucks but the  _place_  sounds gorgeous, Kadan. Maybe next time Cullen won’t need to deploy the Chargers and I can go with you to see it myself.”) and the tense ride home with her irritable father and the newly recruited ex-Chevalier, Michel de Chevin (“Ha! I would’ve loved to have been there. I bet Loghain had a few things to say about that!) then Bull regaled the newest move the Inquisition had made against the Venatori (“It was great! You should have seen how many there were; it was 5 to one! I ran in and chopped this Vint’s head right off with one swing--it was  _glorious!_ ). Breme bathed in contentment, even though Bull liked to dip his hands in the water and pinch her when she wasn’t looking. She got her revenge, splashing him enough that he looked like he could have been bathing himself. And the  _kisses_. He covered her with kisses. In reality, it had only been a few weeks since they’d seen each other but it felt like entire Ages longer, and The Iron Bull kissed Breme like he couldn’t get enough of her. And Maker, she had missed him.

When she was finished, she wrung the sponge out several times and tossed it aside. “Towel?” Breme asked sweetly as she stood up, careful not to slip.

She looked up and— _whip_ —Breme got a face-full of towel.

“ _Finally_ ,” she heard The Iron Bull say before he wrapped a second towel tightly around her body and lifted her out of the tub and onto his shoulder.

“Hey!” Breme protested, muffled by fluffy linen. She cried out as Bull suddenly tossed her and she landed on the bed with a soft  _whuff_.

The Iron Bull pulled the towel from her head, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re beautiful, Kadan, but you talk too much.”

“Ohhhh I’m gonna get you for that—”

His grin turned impish, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You can try.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's totes gonna be a part two. :3


End file.
